


Finders Keepers

by CryptidBae



Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV), The Predator (2018)
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Flora & Fauna, Alien Mythology/Religion, Alien Technology, Alien/Human Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Freeform, Gay Male Character, M/M, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Culture, Mild Blood, Non-Human Humanoid Society, Not Canon Compliant, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Yautja
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptidBae/pseuds/CryptidBae
Summary: A Mandalorian bounty hunter finds a yautja child. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Mandalorian/Original Male Character(s), Original Male Character & Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Yautja (Predator)&Original Character(s), Yautja (Predator)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 188





	1. The Asset

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my buddy Shaymin and the Yautja discord server for their support. I love you guys!

The asset lied in the rubble and ash of the battle. Three bounty hunters didn't manage to subdue it long enough to anesthetize it and put it in a cell, but one of the Mandalorian hunter's nets aimed in the wrong direction —his plan had been to immobilize one of the bounty hunters, not the asset— did the trick.

Four bullets and three dead bodies later, he was stepping towards the trapped humanoid, watching it as it trashed and shrieked like a wild beast in its attempts to get free, either unaware of or ignoring his presence.

Olin's brows furrowed behind the helmet as he got a better look at the creature who had a six figures bounty on its head.

It was his first time hunting a "predator", but Olin had heard many stories about them and even if they were the kind that you hear from someone who's got a friend who heard it from a fellow who swears he knows a guy that saw one once, they were consistent enough to get a physical description. They all described the predators as being an elusive, unpredictable and aggressive humanoid species who stood at over seven feet of height and possessed a muscle mass that could make the strongest warrior shrink in shame, along with elongated skulls and mandibles often described as being crab-like.

The one in front of him had the elongated skull, the mandibles, and the aggressiveness, but it could not be taller than five feet and didn't have any built muscle mass. In fact, its limbs were skinny and short, barely possessing any muscle, like a–

"Shit," he breathed out, eyes widening in realization.

The asset– no, the _child_ froze, staring up at him with wide, yellow eyes full of tears, their oddly shaped mandibles pressed tightly against their mouth and a deep growl —one that failed to be threatening due to the size of the one producing it— vibrated from deep in their chest. Then the trashing around resumed and Olin winced when the metal net cut through the flesh of the child's arm, marking them with a grid pattern and making them let out an ear-piercing shriek.

"Hey, easy there," Olin made his best attempt at sounding non-threatening, not sure if it would work considering how the helmet distorted his voice. He held his gloved hands up as he knelt beside the child, his movements slow. "I am not going to hurt you. I just want to get you out."

It didn't cross his mind that maybe this child didn't speak galactic basic until he moved his hands closer to untangle the net from one of the hair-like appendages on their head. As his fingers brushed it Olin realized two things: the first one was that it was not hair, but something fleshy and cartilaginous, and second was that the child didn't speak galactic basic and that they did not want to be touched by him.

He realized his mistake as the child twisted their whole body to face him, rolled in his direction and dived in, sinking their sharp teeth on his palm just above his thumb. Olin cursed out loud, going to yank his hand away then stopping when he realized that would likely rip his thumb off. Instead, he smacked the child over the eyes not hard enough to hurt them, but with enough force to stun them, making them weaken their teeth's hold on his flesh enough for him to pry their mouth open and free his hand.

Olin pushed himself a few feet back, holding his injured hand close to his chest, teeth bared and nostrils flaring under his helmet. He looked down at the wound, watching as blood gushed out of the four holes where the little bastard sunk their teeth.

"Son of a bitch," Olin hissed.

They were lucky to be a child, otherwise, he would have shot them. He'd shot people for less than almost ripping his thumb off with their teeth before.

He stood up, tightening the strap of his glove to cut the blood going to his hand and hopefully stop the bleeding until he could go back in his ship and treat his hand properly. Olin's jaw clenched as fresh pain sparked due to the action, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. But his anger faded when the child flinched. Olin inhaled, counted to ten, then let it out as a slow sigh, forcing himself to calm down, he was the adult here, not the panicked and visibly terrified child, he had to keep his anger under control.

"Alright, I'm sorry about that," he started again, then smacked his helmet because again he'd forgotten that this child didn't understand him.

Olin had an idea. He knelt down beside the trapped child again, this time giving them a little more space, and pulled out the small pocket knife one of his clan's foundlings had gifted him last time he was at Mandalore. The sight of the weapon made the child tense. Olin thought his next move carefully, he showed it to them, gave them a few seconds to size it and himself up, then slowly lowered it to the part of the net that was further away from the child's body. Even if it was just a few inches of space, it seemed to be enough for the child to understand what he was trying to do because it let out a trail of anxious yet somehow content clicks.

The more netting he cut, the more the child trashed, making it difficult for Olin to free them without hurting them. He stopped, raising both his hands and letting out a soft "shh" noise in an attempt to calm the child down.

"This-" he pointed at the blade of the knife. "-is _sharp_. Sharp things can hurt _you_." he pointed at the kid. "Stay still." he held both hands with his palms facing downwards and moved them as if pushing something down.

Olin didn't know if the child stayed still because they understood or because his miming was so confusing that their brain shut down trying to process it. But it got the child to stop moving, so either way worked.

Making sure not to hurt them, Olin started cutting closer to the child's body. He freed their injured arm first, staying out of reach just in case they decided to use those sharp claws instead of their teeth– he was close enough to notice some other injuries that marked the child's arms and torso, most of them bruises, but Olin could also see some already scabbed over cuts. It made Olin wish that he'd given the bounty hunters a slower, more painful death than just putting a bullet through their skulls. Now he realized they didn't deserve such mercy.

The winds changed, blowing sand in their direction and making the child squeeze their eyes and mandibles shut while also tucking their injured arm close to their chest to prevent sand from getting into the grid-shaped wound. Olin didn't have to worry about the sand getting into his mouth and eyes thanks to his helmet. He also didn't really care about it getting in his own injury, considering it too small for it to bring much trouble. But the way it stuck to his visor was making it harder to see what he was doing.

He turned away from the wind, wiping the sand off his visor with his clothed forearm and taking the moment to assess their surroundings. The bounty hunters had been smart, they'd worked together to catch the child —either planning to split the bounty or to kill each other for it—, then they'd traveled a ways away from the planet where the child was located first and settled their camp away from the settlements in this desert planet to go unnoticed, but close enough that any of them could go and get fuel for their ship.

Olin counted the dead littered around. Three bounty hunters dead by his hand, nothing to be proud of, but nothing to feel guilty about either, especially not now that he knew that they had been more than willing to turn a child in to a client and had hurt them in the process.

 _Where are your parents?_ Olin wondered, but didn't ask out loud.

As far as Olin knew, the child had been on the bounty hunter's custody for a couple of days now and before that, the tracking fobs had been tracing their signal for almost a week. If the predators were such good hunters, how come they had yet to take the child back?

He looked around a second time instinctively. The stories did mention that predators were experts in camouflage. Olin scanned his surroundings, straining his eyes to focus on his attempts to see any small changes in lightning that might indicate they weren't as alone as he thought himself and the child to be. Olin was no stranger to invisibility devices —many bounty hunters, including himself, and the people they chased used them to keep their ships hidden from sight—, he knew how they'd reflect the light in a noticeable way if you were paying attention, but wasn't able to see anything.

A high-pitched shriek from the child made Olin turn back just in time for something to slam into him.

Olin and his attacker spiraled. Air was knocked out of his lungs when his back hit the ground, the aggressor on top of him. His uninjured hand balled into a fist, connecting with a defined jaw hard enough to knock the other off of him; they both jumped to their feet, breathing heavily.

He took in the ridged skull and green hide of the humanoid before him then noticed the guild's logo branded on the sheath of his blade: a Falleen bounty hunter.

"I gotta say, Mandalorian," he growled, shooting a sharp grin at Olin as he cracked his knuckles and tilted his head from side to side to make the vertebrates of his neck pop. "You are strong."

The Falleen charged, forcing Olin to step back and to the side, dodging a fist twice the size of his own that would have connected with his chest and caused quite a lot of damage to his chest plate and ribs. Olin lifted his arm, aiming his vambrace at the Falleen.

Just as he was about to shoot, the Falleen's massive hand reached out for his arm and fearing that his vambrace would be crushed if he got a hold of it, Olin pulled his arm back. The net flew past the Falleen and wrapped around a boulder, missing him entirely.

The Falleen used the moment of distraction to seize Olin's injured hand, squeezing viciously. "Should have kept the flame thrower like the other Mandalorians!" he cackled, using his grip on Olin's arm to yank him forward as his free fist connected with Olin's chest.

Olin wheezed, lungs burning and visor fogging as he gasped for air. He fell to his knees when the Falleen let go of his arm and was thrown at least six feet away when he kicked his abdomen. He didn't feel it when his back hit the ground, his brain turned off for a minute when his head bounced against the ground, but he came back to his senses —and to a reality full of pain— when the child started screaming.

Turning to where he'd left the child, Olin's blood went cold when he saw the empty net. His attention turned to where the screams were coming from.

A few feet away from the net, the Falleen was holding the child by the legs upside down as far away from himself as he could. The child screamed, trashed and threw their arms at the Falleen, trying to dig their little claws —which Olin realized were responsible for the deep scratch over the Falleen's now squinted eyes— in his arm, his torso, his crotch, anywhere as long as it got the Falleen to let go.

"Guess I am bringing this one in cold," the Falleen snarled, drawing his blade.

Olin stood up– he had no idea where the strength to do it came from, but he did and he didn't have time to question it. He charged forward, slamming into the Falleen's side and digging his pocket blade in his armpit, the injury forcing him to let go of the child. Olin wrapped an arm around the child, catching them before they could start falling and holding them against his body, praying to whoever was watching that the child wouldn't attack them until the Falleen got his bearings and attacked.

He just had enough time to make sure the child would fall on their butt when he threw them aside before he was being lifted off the ground by the arms and thrown back down. Olin's vision went white, he tried to breathe, to refill his lungs with precious oxygen, but two hands pinning him to the ground by the neck squeezed his airway shut.

Instinctually, his hands flew to clutch at the Falleen's wrists, digging his nails into the flesh while trying with all his might to pry him off. It was useless. He tried to move his knees up to his chest to kick him off as he'd done before, but the Falleen shifted on top of him, straddling him and leaning even more of his weight on his arms and on Olin's neck.

"I must thank you, Mandalorian," the Falleen smirked wickedly, drool dripping from his teeth and into Olin's helmet. "I've been hunting those idiots down for two whole days. But then you came and killed them for me!"

Black dots danced in Olin's vision, getting bigger and bigger each passing second. He reached out, wrapping his own hands around the Falleen's neck in one last attempt at survival, but his brain was running on fumes, his grip loosening until his arms just went limp.

Perhaps this is how it was meant to happen all along. Perhaps Olin's fate had always been to die alone, unwitnessed, with the copper taste of blood in his mouth, staring into the eyes of a bloodthirsty reptile. He'd survived through a hundred bad deeds yet he would meet his end for trying to do a good one, how ironic. As his consciousness drifted away, Olin hoped that the child would use this chance to get far enough to escape the Falleen.

"This is nothing personal, I swear. But I was here first, can't just let you take the asset. You know how it is." the Falleen leaned in, his ridged forehead pressing against Olin's helmet. He was trying to see through the visor at the eyes of the man he was choking to death. "Finders keepers."

A cream-colored blur appeared over the Falleen's shoulder. Olin's vision focused long enough for him to realize that it was the child– they jumped on the Falleen's back, mandibles spread wide and yellow eyes glaring at the green bounty hunter.

"What the–?!"

The Falleen didn't get to finish the sentence. The child's teeth sank on the side of the Falleen's neck, digging through flesh and veins. The child threw their head back, ripping off a large chunk of flesh and piercing through the jugular. Blood sprayed out of the Falleen's neck, their grip on Olin's neck tightening only for a second longer before it loosened completely. Olin gasped for air, gaping like a fish out of water and feeling his lungs burn and his heart hammer against his rib cage as the now unresponsive Falleen dropped on top of him like dead weight.

His mind was spinning. Olin did his best to blink away the black dots in his vision as he felt the Falleen's muscles twitch on top of him before going completely still, warm blood sliding off his armor pieces and soaking through his clothes.

Olin blinked slowly. When he opened his eyes, the weight of the corpse was replaced by the sharp end of the Falleen's previously discarded blade pressing against his throat. He stared up at the child. The blade they were holding was almost twice the length of their arm, yet they held it up like it weighed nothing, the Falleen's blood —along with Olin's— dripped from their chin and mandibles. They spit out the chunk of flesh they'd been holding in their mouth and bared their teeth at Olin, letting out a warning hiss.

"You are a tough kid," Olin rasped out, awestruck, before the world around him went dark.


	2. Hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child stuck around and took Olin to safety. But their hosts' hospitality won't be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me so long, I'm sorry. But hey, quarantine might be a productive time for me if college doesn't kick my ass.  
> Enjoy!

A thin shaft of warm sunlight slid in through the barely big enough to fit your hand through hole in the curtains that due to that same hole failed in their attempt to fully shield the inside of the room from the scorching sun.

"Your hand is healing well, I am surprised it didn't get infected out there," the doctor said. Olin didn't answer, so the doctor redressed his now stitched wound. "Your, uh- your child did a great job at keeping it clean."

Once again, Olin didn't answer, not with words at least, he did let out a hum to acknowledge what the woman sitting in front of him was saying just because it would be rude to keep giving the people that had saved him the silent treatment– No, not saved him, the ones who had taken him in after the #child saved him by killing the Falleen and dragging him out of the desert and towards civilization.

Olin had been there for two days but had only been awake for a couple of hours. His helmet had not been removed —someone within the group of people that found them in the desert knew of Mandalorian costumes and insisted on not removing the helmet, for it would have been a great offense—, but his armor lied in a corner, being thoroughly examined by the child, who hunched over it like a dragon over its hoard. That left him with only his helmet and the pants he wore under the armor on, an odd sight for anyone outside of Mandalore.

The child saved him, and not only that but they stayed by his side during those two days. Olin was still struggling to process that part of the story, why would the child stay when they'd been hellbent on getting away from him just mere moments before the Falleen almost choked him to death?

If Olin was being honest, he was a little wary of the child now that he'd seen what they were truly capable of. Falleens were known for their thick skin, Olin knew first hand just how much strength was needed to pierce through their flesh with blades, yet the child managed to rip the bounty hunter's throat out with just their teeth– and not only that, but they also managed to drag Olin, who stood at over six feet of height and weighed over 200 pounds, miles away from where the fight took place and to the spot where they were shortly after found by a group of moisture farmers in search of a stolen vaporator.

"You should be proud of the kid you've raised, they didn't allow anyone to go near your belongings," the doctor started to save her medical tools as she said this. "Growled at me the whole time as I was undressing you."

He was about to point out that this was not his child. But the way she would send apprehensive glances his way every few seconds told him that it would be wiser to not confirm nor deny her assumption. There was no way of telling someone that the kid you were found with and who had clearly bitten your hand wasn't yours that wouldn't make Olin sound like a child abductor. He was already quite lucky that they had not called the authorities the second they saw him. Most planets didn't want anything to do with the people of Mandalore —who most thought to be just ruthless bounty hunters but default— especially planets such as this one: the reformed Tatooine, where the memory of slavery and lawlessness was still fresh.

When the doctor stood to leave, Olin wrapped his uninjured hand around her wrist. She stopped, tensing in a way that told Olin she was scared of him and made him realize too late that that probably wasn't the best way to stop someone from leaving and that maybe he should start using his words.

"Thank you," was the first thing he said. "If there is something I can do to repay for you and the people's help, let me know."

He recognized the shock in the doctor's eyes but watched as the corners of her mouth stretched into a grateful —and relieved— smile and she nodded before taking her leave.

With just the two of them in the room, Olin pushed himself to sit, muscles aching with even the smallest movement. He knew it would have been worse if it wasn't for whatever local anesthetic the doctor had rubbed over his neck; Olin had not been awake for that, but he could feel the stickiness over his numb, bruised throat.

The small room's floor felt cold under his feet, a privilege that told him that whoever was in possession of the medical facility was wealthy. Reformed or not, few people could afford to pay for the kind of technology and amount of energy needed to keep the inside of a building cold on a planet such as Tatooine. It also told him that he'd have to pay quite a sum of credits for his stay. The New Republic had made great changes —such as abolishing slavery— across the galaxy, but free medical care was something that had yet to reach the outer rim, especially in planets where resources were scarce.

Feeling the child's eyes on him, Olin turned his attention to them. They didn't look away. The fear their big yellow eyes had reflected when he'd met them two days ago reduced to a flicker of wariness as they picked one of his shoulder plates and examined it before putting it back on top of the other one, stacking them.

Olin's attention drifted from what the child was doing with his armor to the thick, grey-colored leather strap wrapped diagonally over their shoulder and around their torso that held a blade a few inches longer than the child's arm.

He squinted behind the helmet. Neither the blade nor the strap was his, yet they looked awfully familiar.

Thinking back to try and remember where he'd seen it before, the memories of his encounter with the Falleen surfaced, though slowly, in his still recovering from almost being strangled to death brain. Olin remembered stabbing the Falleen after he had pulled that same blade free from that same belt and threatened to use it against the child, he also remembered the child pressing it against his throat, threatening him before he passed out. It seemed that they'd decided to keep it, and by how they clung to the strap with both hands after realizing that Olin was staring at it, they had no intention of handing it over.

Olin snorted. The noise making the child tilt their head in confusion.

"Smart kid," he hummed, voice raspy, and pushed himself to stand.

Olin stretched, feeling his scars ache and joints pop. He'd just entered his late 30's, but considering the way of life of his people and the events of the past decades that caused the deaths of over half the population of Mandalore, that makes him one of the oldest of his clan. Just a few more years and he could become an elder, though that was not something that Olin wished for himself– not yet, at least, he still considered himself too young and inexperienced for that kind of position.

An elder was to be revered by their clan, and Olin's relationship with his own clan members was almost non-existent. Even former foundlings —who hadn't even been born into the clan— had a better relationship with his brethren than he did.

He snapped out of his thoughts and almost jumped out of his skin when he realized the child was now standing right next to him. Instinctively, Olin gave a step to the side with the excuse of moving to the corner where his armor and clothes were now that the child wasn't playing with them. One of his people's teachings was to always consider people's capabilities, no matter their gender, species or in this case, their age. Olin was quite aware of what this child's capabilities were, and he wished to keep his throat intact.

Olin put on the thick blue shirt that he wore under his armor and that served the purpose of both covering his body from the neck to the waist and of preventing his beskar armor from constantly rubbing against his skin and causing injuries. Then came the gloves– Olin looked down at the four holes the child's teeth made on his left glove when they pierced through both leather and flesh, looking up at the child, who didn't look away for even a second.

The way the child stared up at him was intense– or so Olin thought at first, tilting his head to the side and getting a look at them from a slightly different angle revealed that what made them look so threatening was the fact that their eyes were small, their prominent brow casting a shade over them and the mandibles that took over half of their face made it impossible to find any human likeness in their expressions.

Now that he was actually taking the time to look at them, Olin realized that their injured arm was bandaged up, but unlike Olin's hand, it was clear that it had not been done by someone with medical experience. He also noticed that the blood around their mouth and mandibles had dried.

"You're dirty," Olin pointed after strapping his armor back on.

He scanned the room, spotted the small table in the corner with a rag and bowl half-filled with water —it was filled to the brim before the excruciating heat made the water evaporate as it was being taken to the room— on top, and moved towards it. He soaked the rag, turning back to the child and finding that they had once again approached to see what he was doing.

Knowing that there was a great chance of getting bitten again if he failed to approach the child about cleaning their face in a non-threatening way, Olin slowly got down on one knee. The child's size made it so Olin was now below their eye level and they were looking down at him.

Olin breathed out a sigh of relief when he realized that from this angle, the child looked less threatening. They stared down at him, tilting their head to the side and letting out a curious chirp —one that sounded more like a "mrp" than an actual chirp— before Olin moved his hand with the wet rag up and their attention instantly darted to it.

"I'll clean your face, like this." Olin rolled his sleeve up just enough to show his wrist, pressing the wet rag against his dark skin and rubbing just enough to wash off some of the sand that had stuck to him.

He needed a bath to wash off all the sand and sweat sticking to him, and he planned to take one once they were back in his shit– It seemed that his subconscious mind had decided that he was taking the child with him. Thinking about it, there weren't really many other options, the child had no parents there was still a bounty on their head, and there was no way that Olin was leaving them in Tatooine.

The child wrapped their hands around his wrist, interrupting his internal monologue. Olin tensed and the child paused, staring at him so intensely that Olin wondered if they could see through the helmet's visor before realizing that was impossible– the reason why beskar had been the Mandalorian's go-to metal when it comes to making armor for generations was not only because Mandalore is full of it, but because it's impenetrable, so there was no way the child could see his face.

They didn't break eye contact as the child pulled Olin's hand up slowly, inching it towards their face– Olin took the hint, moving on his own and gently wiping the blood off the child's chin first. Careful and a bit hesitant, Olin wiped the blood off the child's mandibles and tusks, then off the little spot between their eyes and mouth where a nose would have been in most other species.

Relief and a hint of surprise washed over him when he was able to get the blood off their gums and pull his hand back without getting his fingers bitten off.

"Good child," Olin breathed out, smiling under his helmet.

The child's piercing stare didn't cease. Olin could have sworn it became even more intense after he spoke. Their tusks moved, clicking against each other as Olin stood back up and moved to where his vambrace lied. He placed it on his right arm instead of the left, deciding that it would not be wise to wear it on the hand that was injured, even if it was just a bite. It would also be a good excuse to start using his weaker hand to shoot.

It became clear after a few seconds of the child clicking non-stop while following him around the room that they were saying something, but he had no idea what, he'd never even heard whatever language it was that they were speaking.

That would be a problem. Olin had to find a way to communicate with the child or it would be impossible to keep them with him– his stomach growling reminded him that he also had to find out what the child ate, given their teeth, Olin was almost completely sure that they were carnivorous, but that didn't make things less complicated, not all species could eat the same meat.

The door slid open and a woman walked in: a Togruta, Olin recognized. His eyes wandering over the golden cuffs that held the two thick, cartilaginous, tentacle-like appendages that characterized the species together. The same material adorned her wrists, neck and fingers. It was gold, something rare to see in a planet like Tatooine. This Togruta was small and slim, and dressed with the kind of robes Olin was used to seeing being wore by those that worked for someone of high status. Still, he didn't let his guard down. His eyes narrowed as she stared at the child with a big, pleased smile on her face.

Olin cleared his throat and her attention snapped up him. "Oh, excuse my manners." the woman vowed respectfully. "My name is Ran'sha. My boss, the head of this hospital, wants to see you and your... child."

He narrowed his eyes. Olin didn't like the pause she made before saying child. The fingers on his left hand flexed instinctively, getting ready to strike if she did as much as hint that she might be a threat, before a spark of pain from the base of his thumb reminded him that he was wearing his vambrace on the opposite arm.

She was polite, more so than Olin was used to. But there was something about the way she mentioned that her boss basically owned the place that left it clear to him it was not an option to decline the invitation– at least not unless he shot his way out of there, but Olin wasn't a fan of terrorizing civilians, especially not already hospitalized ones.

"When–"

"As soon as possible," the woman interrupted him. "My boss is a really busy man and he's got many questions to ask you." her smile didn't leave her face for a second. Olin realized then that it was fake. "He told me to tell you that your answers will be considered payment for his hospitality. Not many hospitals would take a bounty hunter in."

Olin glared at the woman behind his helmet, furious and offended by being reduced to a mere bounty hunter. She turned on her heel.

"I will be waiting for you outside," she spoke, leaving the room before Olin could say anything.

The child clicked beside him. Olin looked down to see them staring at the door as it slid shut behind the woman. They were glaring —actually glaring this time— at the woman as she left. It made Olin chuckle. The child might not understand a word they said, but they were smart and seemed to know enough about humanoid facial expressions to tell that woman's smile was as fake as the hospitality they were being shown.

"I don't like this either," Olin sighed, shaking his head. "But I have my guns and you have your blade."

He touched the handle of the weapon strapped to the child's back and then, slowly, his hand moved up and touched the top of the child's oddly shaped head, avoiding the tress-like appendages because something told him that touching those would end with fresh bite marks for him.

"We'll be fine."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment, make it as lengthy as you wish, your opinions encourage me to keep going!


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